


Dust

by Ornery Otter (Greiver_Dhark)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:26:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greiver_Dhark/pseuds/Ornery%20Otter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not sure what he's doing here, or what happened to here either - all he can see is the dust and rubble from the building he'd been standing in until it stopped standing. Where Foggy is in a building that falls down on him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust

His head ached fiercely. 

Grey dust swirled around him making visibility an issue but it was hardly the most pressing concern. He felt deaf, a confusing situation as his ears were ringing so loudly, it made little sense that he couldn't hear the sound around him as well. It did appear that his hearing might be coming back though - he could hear a great scraping and cracking that seemed to fit the destruction around him, but could similarly be attributed to the sound of his brain dying in fragments - it certainly hurt enough for it. 

Exposed concrete surrounded him, remnants of what used to be the building he was stood in, now fallen down around his ears. His brain couldn't quite seem to compute that though, didn't seem to really be processing at all really. He wasn't sure what he was doing or what he should be doing, but instead found himself peering blearily upwards at the ruins of the floor above him and the ceiling above that - the ceiling which was only partially there. Dust continued to swirl in the air and get in his eyes, making it difficult to get a clear picture but he could see the light above him just barely through the grey mist, the sky exposed in the middle of the building. 

Something about that just seemed wrong, but he didn't spend the time to think any more about it. 

Instead he dragged himself awkwardly from the wreckage, a difficult task indeed. Limping with one injured foot and similarly damaged hand, both covered in too much dust to discern any immediate injury. He knew from the squelch of his boot that he was bleeding from something there but could discern nothing more without taking the time to examine it more thoroughly. 

Accompanying those injuries was his head wound, something that didn't help his faculties in the slightest of course. He idly reached his uninjured hand to touch his temple, feeling the sting and dampness of fresh blood. The feel of the grey dust from his fingers mixing with the fresh blood lent a singularly unpleasantly sensation not unlike partially congealed batter, but distinctively grainy. 

Distracted as he was, it took him a moment of time until he refocused on his task, turning his attention from where he'd been rubbing his dirty fingertips together thoughtfully. He hadn't made it far enough from the building to be considered no longer at risk, even if he was outside now. With that in mind he determinedly staggered onward, his mind wandering without control or direction. 

It only became more apparent as he moved that he was alone. He had seen none other since he had attempted to flee the destruction, nobody at all and that struck him as odd. After all, why wouldn't it be odd, that the building he had been in had crumbled with him in it, and nobody else was around? Had the building been destroyed /because/ he was the only one in it? 

Such questions would have to hold for later however, as he had more pressing matters to attend to. Whatever was going on he lacked the time and clear thought to contemplate it. Such musings could come later, once he was safer. 

A little further ahead revealed a small building, little more than a storage shed. The door was unlocked and he pulled it open, noting absently as he did that his hand was also bleeding, though at a sluggish rate. It was hardly the priority however, as he heaved the door open and pressed himself inside, letting the heavy door close behind him. As he'd thought the shed was not very large, and appeared to be intended for some kind of storage, though currently it lacked anything but a few boxes and crates. Dropping his ass down on one with less care than was wise given how it wobbled beneath him, Foggy let out a sigh and put his face in his hands as he fought to regain some clarity. 

His name was Foggy Nelson and he had been looking for Matt Murdock. He didn't remember why; why he wanted to find him, or why he'd been looking for him here. Upon entering he hadn't found who he was expecting to see - hadn't found anyone at all in fact. He'd been exploring the two-storey building in search of them when it all came crashing down on top of him. 

Well that answered a few questions but still left him with a great many more. Somehow he had a feeling that no matter how many he managed to answer on his own, the biggest question wasn't going to be one of them. 

What the hell just happened?

**Author's Note:**

> /Just something that bit me and wouldn't let go till I'd written it out (thanks for that, its 1am now and I shoulda been asleep hours ago).   
> I'm going to go to bed now >_>


End file.
